


Youth Equals Juice

by kosmickway (KMDWriterGrl)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/kosmickway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the hell do you have a conversation about juice boxes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Youth Equals Juice

Reid sat at his desk in the BAU bull pen, staring at a juice box with an expression that could only be called perplexed. It wasn’t really a box per se … it was a silver pouch with a picture of bright juicy fruits plastered on the front. A sharp pointed orange plastic straw in its own cellophane wrapper came glued to the side of it, the better to imbibe the juice with, apparently. He turned the pouch over and squinted owlishly at the list of ingredients on the back of it. 

“You’d think Reid had never seen a juice box before,” Emily said, sidling up to Morgan. “How long has he been staring at it?”

“Five minutes. Solid.” Morgan chuckled. “You think he ever drank juice boxes? He seems more like an organic apple juice or soy milk kid to me.” 

“He probably never ate Oreos either,” Emily put in. 

“Or Twinkies.”

“Moon Pies.”

“Cocoa Pops.”

“What IS with the juice box anyway?” Emily asked, trying to suppress a giggle. 

“We found one just like it at the site of the abduction. Turned out to be one of those bits of evidence that didn’t do us any good. The way Reid was looking at it you’d think it had fallen off the ship at Roswell.”

 He looked back out at the bull pen where Reid was trying—unsuccessfully—to get the sharp edged straw into the pouch of juice without making a mess.

“You ever wonder if Reid feels like he missed out on being a kid?”

Emily furrowed her brow. “Because he lived with a schizophrenic mother or because he’s a genius with an IQ 40 points higher than Einstein’s?”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Both.”

“Both what?” Penelope joined them at the railing. “What am I missing?”

“Reid playing with a juice box.”

“Um … why?”

“He’s never seen one before, apparently,” Emily replied. “And then we were wondering if Reid had a good childhood.”

“I thought you guys aren’t supposed to profile each other,” Garcia said balefully.

“We’re not—not really,” Morgan replied, grinning when Garcia swatted at his arm. “We’re just curious.”

“He’s not an exhibit at a zoo, guys!”

“No, but he’s certainly an exotic specimen,” Emily said. “Come on, Garcia, how many people have you met who made it to age 29 without ever having a juice box?”

Garcia thought for a second. “None. But still, Reid’s different. You shouldn’t be making fun of him for that.”

Morgan put an arm around her shoulders and affectionately pulled her to him. “We’re not making fun of him, baby girl. We’re … making inferences about the effect of his different type of childhood on his social skills.”

“You’re profiling him,” Garcia insisted with a little pout. “And you know as well as I do that he would NEVER do the same thing to you.”

Emily sighed, feeling a little guilty. “You’ve got a point there. He takes the ‘no profiling your team members’ rule pretty seriously.”

“As he should,” Garcia replied, a little haughtily. “If everybody profiled everyone else you’d have me looking up Rossi’s marriage and divorce papers, Hotch’s high school photos, and the Academy placement scores for sexy here from morning till night.“ She bumped her hip against Morgan, who had developed a sudden gleam in his eye. “Oh, no! What’d I say?”

“Hotch’s high school photos,” he said, grinning at Emily. “You think he wore a starched white shirt and Top Siders back then?”

“I bet he was class president,” Emily snickered. “And gelled his hair back every morning.”

“And brought the same lunch every day all year long,” Morgan continued. 

“And hyperventilated every time his GPA fell below a 4.0!”

Garcia stared at them, both amused at the speculation and a little horrified, considering that it was Hotch they were talking about. “What has gotten into you guys?”

“A little bit of the devil,” Morgan joked. “We’re just playing, angel. No worries. It’s not like we’re going to go searching for old yearbooks.” He leaned over to Prentiss and stage whispered, “What high school did he go to again?”

Garcia shook her head. “If I didn’t love hearing your sexy voice on the end of my phone every day, Derek Morgan, I’d be tempted to hit you over the head with a shovel! You’re going to get me in trouble!”

“Not you, baby. Just me and her.” He nodded at Prentiss. “But it would be the very best kind of trouble to be in … ‘high school prank’ type trouble was always the best. You knew you were going to get it from someone but by God it was totally worth it to see the look on everybody’s face!” He grinned devilishly. “That’s why my buddies and I stole Lafayette Heights’ mascot the night before the Homecoming game and paraded it around at our pep rally.”

“Shut up!” Emily laughed delightedly. “You did not!”

“I did! It was legendary. After all, it’s not every day you manage to get away with stealing a goat, smuggling it across town, keeping it hidden from the teachers and staff, and then letting it loose in a crowded gymnasium.”

“The Lafayette Heights GOATS?” Emily hooted. “Get serious.”

“Rams,” Morgan corrected. “They had to make do.”  

Even Garcia had to laugh at that one. 

“All right, Emily, what’s your high school trouble moment? I know you must have one,” Morgan asked, leaning against the railing separating the bull pen from the rest of the office. 

“At a private girls’ boarding school?” Emily asked, eyes twinkling. “What do YOU think we did to get in trouble?”

Morgan’s eyes took on a dreamy far off quality that had Garcia and Emily leaning against each other and laughing. 

“Why is it that guys always assume that all-girls schools are dens of iniquity?” Emily asked, gasping for air between giggles. “Look at him! You know he’s thinking naked pillow fights and make-out slumber parties.”

“Naked pillow fights?” Rossi asked, walking up to them. “Sounds like I’m missing a REALLY good conversation.”

Emily and Garcia laughed even harder. 

“Derek?” Rossi asked, looking over at the younger profiler. “What did I miss?”

Morgan laughed and looked back at the bull pen, where Reid had pulled out a second juice pouch and was meticulously trying to poke the straw into it without puncturing the opposite side of the pouch. Juice squirted everywhere. 

“Juice boxes,” Morgan replied with a grin. 

END. 

 


End file.
